


hide & seek

by zombeesknees



Category: Tangled (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 16:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombeesknees/pseuds/zombeesknees
Summary: Set post-film: Rapunzel may be a princess now, but she hasn’t changedthatmuch. Eugene still has his hands full, especially when she wants to play games around the castle… | Written for a Chrimbo advent calendar many moons ago on LJ.





	hide & seek

There was no _way_ she would find him up here. It had taken all of his old skills to climb the shelves without knocking any telltale books down. He pressed his back flush against the curve of the cathedral ceiling, knowing that in the murky evening gloom he was nearly invisible. Up here, he could blend in perfectly with her mural of girls with golden and brown hair, opposite the dashing figure that bore more than a slightly passing resemblance to himself.

He could still hear her counting aloud, down the hall. She had reached eighty-one—he had plenty of time to admire his surroundings. 

There was more than one reason why the library was the Princess’ (still felt weird to call her that, so he avoided it as often as he could—no doubt the visiting dignitaries and other hob-nobs thought him disrespectful and common, but could you blame a guy if Princess Rapunzel was too much of a mouthful to say every day?) favorite room. It wasn’t just the hundreds—nay, _thousands_ —of books; enough to spend two lifetimes reading. She’d told him about the three books Mother Gothel had allowed her, how she could still recite them perfectly from memory for all of the dozens of times she’d read them. And he still remembered the golden look in her eyes when her parents had first shown her this room, the utter joy that shone from her smile as she began grabbing titles from the shelves as if they were long-lost friends she couldn’t wait to hold. 

And it wasn’t just the fantastic rolls of maps that could be unrolled to spread across the entire floor, full of exotic names and far-off places, places he had promised months ago to take her to see in person when they had the time to spare from the fancy dinners and hearings and finer details of ruling a kingdom. 

And it wasn’t because she’d gotten her hands onto fifty different pots of paint and covered the entire ceiling (hanging from a variety of ropes and awnings, much to her parents’ horror and concern, much to his amusement) and walls between the book shelves with her vibrant murals. It wasn’t even because her parents had practically lived in this room during the years she was gone, comforting themselves with the books and fireplace and the old sense of family that had sunk into the walls throughout the generations.

It was for all of these reasons together. Of all of the chambers in the entire castle, this one felt the most like a home. There was a sense of love and happiness and patience here that the other rooms, though lovely and beautiful, were lacking. Eugene couldn’t possibly count the number of evenings they’d spent in here together, reading in comfortable, companionable silence or talking about their next big adventure, or admiring the stars from the large, cushioned window seat. 

“Onnnnnne hundred!” she called from down the hall, her words ending in that little giggle that did strange floppy things to his heart. He heard the patter of her feet against the old flagstones (the royal shoemaker had burst into tears the day she announced she would never need his services, and it took the combined efforts of Rapunzel _and_ her mother to assure him that he would still have plenty of work around the castle) as she sprinted past the doorway. There was a gentle creak of a door being opened and closed, then another, then another. The last was punctuated by a tiny squeak of alarm and what sounded like the clatter of various brooms and buckets.

“Definitely not in there,” he heard her mutter, and he had to stifle the chuckle that rose up in his throat. 

A soft noise near his ear made Eugene turn quickly. Pascal was staring at him with narrowed eyes, clinging to the plaster of the ceiling. The little chameleon glanced down, at the cracked-open doorway, and smiled slowly.

“No,” Eugene hissed softly. “That would be cheating!”

The lizard’s eyes narrowed further, but he finally gave a little shake of his shoulders as if shrugging and scuttled off, down the wall and towards the fireplace mantle, where a tiny cushion sat. The days were growing shorter, and though it was always temperate around the island, there was a slight chill to the air. Pascal preferred to spend most of his nights warm by the fire if Rapunzel was busy. 

“I’m going to find you, Eugene,” Rapunzel sang softly in the hallway. “You can’t hide from me!”

There was the sound of a door opening, and the heavy step of big boots. “Oh, excuse me, Princess!” Palace guard, obviously. Eugene could never feel comfortable around the guys, no matter how friendly or polite they were. Some habits just refused to die. 

“Hello, Simon!” Another thing: it boggled him how she could remember _everyone’s_ name. Maybe it was just because she’d never _known_ any people before, so she had plenty of room in her head for the influx of new names. “How goes the guarding tonight? Everything still in its proper place?”

“Yes, milady. Braxton just finished counting the silverware.”

“Oh, yes, well, tell him to keep up the good work,” Rapunzel said seriously. “Wouldn’t want those infamous Silverware Bandits to make off with our spoons.”

“…No, milady.”

Eugene had to bite back another laugh. Maybe _that_ was why he couldn’t really stand the guards—they didn’t have an ounce of humor or imagination between them.

“You may carry on, Simon,” Rapunzel continued in her best lofty-but-not-really Princess Voice. “No need to come back this way tonight. I’ve got important business to attend to in this corridor.”

“Very well, Princess. Good evening.”

“Good night.”

He strode away, boots clipping loudly. After a moment, the door to the library creaked softly and Eugene held his breath and thought inanimate plaster thoughts in the hope that he would blend in Pascal-like with the wall. 

She stepped inside slowly and oh-so-quietly, the silk of her skirt swishing softly. The fire had burned low behind the elaborate silver grate, and she stepped toward it immediately, taking up the poker to stir the embers, tossing a couple of new logs in. She stretched up onto her tippy-toes to stroke the dozing Pascal’s back before turning to scan the room properly. 

Eugene’s eyes followed her as she made a slow circuit of the room, as if she were a magnet he was drawn to. Which wasn’t far off, really. It seemed like he could always sense where she was, no matter where she was, in the castle or in the town. When she slipped away to explore the harbor or dance with her people in the squares, Eugene would always reassure her worried parents (he had to give them quite a lot of credit: considering everything they'd been through, they _could_ have just locked Rapunzel up in the castle, trading one comfortable prison for another, for fear of losing her again for good. But they were a kind and wise King and Queen, and understood their daughter—she _had_ to see the world and meet her people; she had to feel as though the chains had been removed entirely; and so they simply paced a little and sighed a lot when she would disappear) before slipping out to bring her back. 

In the warm, flickering light of the fire she _glowed_ , and Eugene was almost 100% certain it wasn’t just his eyes and heart playing tricks on him—when he had cut her hair, she had lost her magic, but not _entirely_. Not if her tears could restore him. Not when her smile could quite literally light up a room. A small fraction of that sunbeam flower’s magic lingered in Princess Rapunzel, and Eugene felt it would always be like a flicker of light in the darkness for her people. 

She was wearing purple tonight—it _was_ her favorite color, and it always looked lovely against her rosy skin, with those huge green eyes and her chocolate brown hair. It was more elaborate and more finely made than the dress she had been wearing the first day they met, and had most likely taken three dressmakers three weeks to complete, with the fine hand-stitching around the hems and bodice. But it looked enough like that old dress to make him think of those first, momentous days, when he had first discovered a dream worth dying for — worth having for the rest of his life. 

In that moment, as he studied the elegant slope of her neck and shoulders, the pale curve of her upper back (he never would have seen _that_ before the haircut), it struck him that it was ridiculous for him to be clinging to a wall thirty feet up when he _could_ be down there, holding her in his arms and kissing those lips that had twisted into a frustrated pout. He could have his hands in that beautiful dark hair, with the feel of her body pressed to his—

Ah, but then he would have to give himself away and that would be _losing_ , and Flynn Ri—uh, _Eugene Fitzherbert_ was no loser. He tried to focus on the task at hand and ignore the demands of his heart and… other parts. 

“This _is_ strange, Pascal,” she said suddenly, quietly, but in the waiting stillness of the library her words were almost as loud as a shout. “I’ve looked in every other room in this corridor, and I _know_ Eugene wouldn’t cheat—we agreed we would limit this game to _only_ this corridor. Unless he’s learned a trick from you and turned into a human chameleon, I just don’t know where he could be.” She drifted over to the huge, impressive drapes that hung from ceiling to floor, and began fiddling with the giant sashes. 

He knew what she would do a second before she did it, but that was only because he _knew_ her. He knew how determined she could be, and how fearless, and how heights meant nothing to her. And he knew just how strong those deceptively slender arms were. Rapunzel was climbing up the drapes, heedless of the danger. Surely the incredibly old curtain rod wouldn’t support the weight of a Princess, even a petite one like Rapunzel. 

But against all reason and logic, it did just that, and within moments Rapunzel had scaled them completely and swung slightly over to land on the top of the closest bookcase. 

“Oof, it’s dusty up here,” she complained, waving her hand vigorously. “Mother Gothel _never_ would have stood for this sort of lax housekeeping.”

Eugene wanted to point out that Mother Gothel’s opinions weren’t really an issue any more, and that the old hag had _never_ had the right to dictate to anyone, let alone Rapunzel, but he kept his mouth closed. At this point, he knew Rapunzel had as good as found him, but he wasn’t going to make it any easier for her.

“I bet Mother and Father would be very surprised if they were to walk in and find me doing this,” Rapunzel mused aloud, walking casually across the cases, hands clasped behind her back. “They wouldn’t tell me to come down, no, but they’d probably ask if I was looking for something up here. What would I say? ‘Yes, I’m looking for my betrothed, he seems to be hiding from me’? I wonder if Father would secretly think about sending out the guards to double-check on the crowns and silverware—he would never give the order, though, because he trusts my judgment and he’s rather fond of Eugene and he would like to think that he really _has_ seen the errors of his ways.”

She paused beside the painting she had made of him, almost directly across from where he stood pressed awkwardly against the curve of the wall. She reached out a gentle hand and ran her finger down the line of his face with a smile. “I don’t think I _quite_ got the nose right, though,” she said judgmentally. “I don’t know what it is about Eugene’s nose, but it seems nearly impossible to draw correctly.” 

He smiled at that. She took another few steps, brushing a hand along the flank of a painted Maximus, standing proud and defiant on the crest of a hill, the horse’s inherent nobility spoilt only slightly by the half-chewed apple sticking out of his mouth. And there was Vlad and his ceramic unicorn collection, and the Hook-Handed Pianist at his great concert piano, and that tiny little man who was perpetually drunk and hiccuping (Eugene had never gotten his name, and it seemed no one else had either—when Rapunzel was discussing the matter of wedding invitations with her mother, she had been forced to simply give a description of the boozy fellow, after which all of the palace guards had simply nodded and muttered that they knew _exactly_ who she was talking about). 

Rapunzel had reached the end of her bookcase—there was a large gap between it and the next one, thanks to the main doorway. She took a few steps back, gauged the distance with her thumb and a squinted eye, took two more steps back, and made a running leap. For a fraction of a second Eugene’s heart stopped entirely, even though his brain was quick to reassure him that his Princess wasn’t the average sort, and she’d handled much more dangerous obstacles in the past. 

It still took him a moment to breathe properly again after she had landed perfectly onto the next bookcase.

“Hmm, I remember Mama mentioning something about unevenness in the walls in here,” she said thoughtfully, hand at her chin. “She said there was a problem with some of the plaster—that we’d need to get some workers in to smooth out all of the bumps. But it seems to me that there’s an _awfully large_ bump over here. The sort that _I_ could take care of, I think. Hello, Eugene.” She smiled her dazzling smile, and he had to sit down and dangle his legs over the edge of the shelf before he fell off completely (he told himself it was because his legs had started to cramp from his hunched-over stance, that it had nothing to do with her smile making his knees weak, that was ridiculous, the sort of thing that happened to barmaids and shepherdesses in the Flanagan Rider stories). 

She lightly skipped the remaining feet between them and sat down beside him, poking his shoulder playfully. “I found you,” she sang. “You’re It now.”

“You sure you want to keep playing?” he asked, lifting up his arm so she could edge closer and rest her head on his shoulder. As her own arm snaked around his waist, he mirrored her movements and laid his hand comfortably against the ball of her hip. 

“I’m fine with whatever you want to do tonight,” she said, contented. 

“…What do you say to slipping out the side gate and grabbing our rowboat and lying out under the stars?”

“If you mean the west side gate, I think there’s a guard on duty there for another twenty minutes,” she said thoughtfully. “But the east gate should be clear for another ten or so, until the next shift goes on duty.”

“Have I ever mentioned that you would have made a _great_ thief?”

“A few times,” she said with a smile. “But I think I make a better princess.”

“That you do.” He cupped her cheek, his hand darker and rougher than her smooth skin, tilted her chin, and kissed her. It took her all of a second to throw her arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. “Whoa,” he gasped when they finally parted, steadying them both. “Careful up here. Wouldn’t want to fall.”

“Depends on what you fall into, hmm?” she said with a giggle, climbing to her feet. “C’mon, Eugene Fitzherbert. Race you to the boat.”

They didn’t return until after dawn, clothes disheveled and smelling of seawater. When they crept inside, intending to rush to their rooms and change before the usual family breakfast, they found themselves running into the Queen, just setting out for her early morning walk in the gardens.

“Darling, were you out _all_ night?” the Queen asked, slightly taken aback.

“Yes, Mama,” Rapunzel admitted readily, flushing slightly. She never _could_ tell a lie convincingly. “We… Went for a row around the island.”

“… _All_ night?”

“Well, it _is_ a big island, Your Highness,” Eugene explained.

“Did you fall in, by any chance?” she asked, glancing at their damp clothes.

“It was her fault,” Eugene said quickly with an accusatory point.

“It was not!” Rapunzel argued. “I wouldn’t have fallen backwards like that if you hadn’t been grab—”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Eugene interrupted her abruptly. “We’ll just go get changed before breakfast, Your Highness.” He nodded politely before grabbing Rapunzel’s hand and hurrying off down the hall. 

The Queen watched them leave, bickering playfully, and smiled with a small shake of her head. Perhaps it was a _good_ thing that the wedding was so near, the way those two kept sneaking off and carrying on. Not that she begrudged them at all, of course; she remembered quite clearly what it had been like for her, when she had first met the King…

The memory made her flush quite a bit, and she wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t forgo the walk this morning and go back to see if her husband was awake yet.


End file.
